


Cleopatra

by Ode_et_amo



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Angst, F/F, F/M, Genderswap, Sad Ending, Song fic, Welton is a school for girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23734915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ode_et_amo/pseuds/Ode_et_amo
Summary: The time after Nell had left, Dora wrote page after page of senseless writing. She wrote letters and poetry and scraps of words that barely formed sentences. She had tried to stop her, to hold on to her hands, but Nell had torn herself away.
Relationships: Charlie Dalton/Knox Overstreet, Todd Anderson/Neil Perry
Kudos: 19





	Cleopatra

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to Cleopatra by The Lumineers and was gettning anderperry vibes from it, so this is the result I guess.
> 
> It's told from two perspective. Nell's story is linear, while Dora's is meant to be told backwards and through memories.   
> The story is supposed to reach through 1919-1929.
> 
> Ellen "Nell" Perry - Neil  
> Theodora "Dora" Anderson - Todd  
> Charlotte "Charlie" Dalton - Charlie  
> Geraldine - Pitts  
> Stevie - Meeks

_I was Cleopatra, I was young and an actress_

  
The corridors of Welton had always reminded her of an insane asylum, not that she had ever been. It was just something in the air that felt strangling, conservative and limiting. It was a boarding school for girls of fine society, it wasn’t meant to raise free spirits but rather mallow wives, ready to follow and agree with every damn whim of some self-entitled man. Therefor it felt like rebellion, running the way she did now, through the corridors, a pamphlet held high in her hands. Teachers scuffed at her, while some of the other girls soon began whispering between themselves. _Seemed Ellen Perry had finally lost it. Everyone knows she is of poor breed._ Nell didn’t care. They could whisper all they want. With some encouraging from Ms. Joan Keating, she had finally found her true passion. She was going to act. To hell with her mother’s belief that acting was only for _loose women._ It was art! 

She threw open the door to her dorm room, managing to startle her roommate Dora in the process. The timid girl was as usual curled up on her bed with a pen and paper in hand. Shedding pages around her like the trees in autumn shed leaves. She was a sight for sore eyes. Blue eyes looking up, mouth formed a perfect o in surprise as Nell threw the pamphlet in her hand

“What is this?”

“It’s a play, dummy” Nell said, excitedly “A Midsummer Night’s Dream, at Henly Hall. Open tryouts! Open tryouts! All my life I wanted to try acting and now I’m finally gonna do it!”

Nell jumped up on Dora’s bed, having grasped a handful of Dora’s discarded pages, hollering for the entire world to hear: “CARPE DIEM!”

She released the papers and let them fall over Dora’s head like snow.

_When you knelt by my mattress, and asked for my hand  
_

Dora unlocked the door to the townhouse. Tears making their streaked journey down her face. She sank to the floor, curling into herself trying become as small as possible. Invisible.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” she repeated to herself, voice hoarse and broken, throat raw.

She held on to a golden locket so hard it started to dig into her palm. She welcomed the pain, it grounded her. The The floor was cold to her wet cheek and she had an irrational thought that the tears would freeze and she’d be stuck there. She thought of moments she wanted to be frozen in. Dreamed of reversing time. Saw Nell kneeling in front of her bed, dark eyes alight with realized passion, new found enthusiasm. Dreams of becoming an actress. Dora had tried to make her see reason. To anchor her to reality, questioned what her parents would think about it. She wished she never had, as she remembered the way Nell’s face had fallen. The way she had turned to the window. Staring out in morose resignation.

Remembered her fire and the way it had burned when Nell had told her that she needed to be stirred up by things, to be passionate about something. That the words of Ms. Keating meant nothing to her. But they did. God, they did. And she could be passionate. Her adoration for her roommate knew no boundaries. Something had then glimmered in Nell’s eyes and she had reached out for Dora and dragged her from the bed in the wildest dance of Dora’s life. They were soon joined by Charlie and their friends.

Dora rested her chapped lips, tired as they were, against the hard, cold press of the floor.

“I loved you, I loved you so much”

_But I was sad you asked it, as I laid in a black dress  
With my father in a casket, I had no plans_

Nell had tried out for the part of Titania, the elven queen, and she had gotten it. She banged her hands against Charlie’s door, before moving on, crashing into Dora’s waiting arms.

“I got the part!”

She needed permission from the board and her parents. Luckily Dora had the most exquisite desk set, a gift from her parents and she hated it. Every last page of letter paper, she was more than willing to let Nell have it.

“Nell, how are you going to do this?” Dora asked, sitting down on Nell’s bed, beside her desk. Nell could kiss her for all the concern, distract her from her anxiety. Since the door to the room was still open she didn’t. Instead she wrote.

“ _Dear Mrs. Nolan, I’m writing on behalf of my daughter, Ellen Perry”_

In the end, she never got to play Titania. Her father died right before the premiere, and for the following week she was granted leave from Welton.

After the funeral, she had left the grieving to haul herself up in her room. She laid curled up on her bed, reading poetry Dora had sent her, when her mother entered. Her mother was a stern woman, with a cold look to her eyes, and had always had an unforgiving attitude to her daughter’s flaws.

"I’ve been talking to your father’s friend Mr. Cameron. He has a son about your age, Richard, you met him last summer”

Richard Cameron was so concerned with tradition and his own perceived image that he had simply forgotten to grow a personality of his own. He was what his parent’s might have told him to be and according to Charlie _a stick in the mud._ Nell thought he was stiff, and his company was draining.

“I think the two of you would make a good match” Nell’s mother told her, and Nell could see her own demise with startling clarity.

That night she crept out to the bathroom, emptying her mother’s medicine cabinet and swallowed the pills down with some hard liquor from her father’s study. She sunk down on the carpet. _  
_

_And I left the footprints, the mud stained on the carpet  
_ _And It hardened like my heart did when you left town_

When Dora stumbled out of the hospital room, she was walking as if in a haze. It had yet to settle, her loss. Losses are never tangible when you go through them. She made her way down to the lobby, where she almost crashed into a man. Dora never saw his face, but she knew the exact pattern the mud from his boots left on the carpet by the entrance. She walked out into the light, and felt hollow in a way she had only ever felt once before.

Remembering Nell’s drawn face in the brittle afternoon light as she packed the last things she had left in their shared dorm room. Her fingers tracing over her desk and the back of the chair. Eyes tasting the walls. Hand smoothing down over dresses she would never more wear. Dora had wanted to hold her then, but something had stopped her. Maybe it was the fret of Nell’s mother returning, catching them. Maybe it was just her own insecurities.

When Nell wasn’t looking, Dora had put her own favorite shawl between two books in the still open suitcase.

_But I must admit it, that I would marry you in an instant_

Her mother’s gaze was heavy on the back of her neck. It was decided. She would marry Richard Cameron, whether she wanted to or not. She didn’t. She had never wanted something less in her entire life.

Nell wanted to bolt. To crash down the corridors and hide in Ms. Keating’s room. She was certain the English teacher would have helped her, had she only been around. Joan Keating had been fired, as the board believed she hadn’t led just one, but two of her students astray. First it was Nell’s suicide attempt, which was blamed on Ms. Keating for having given her ideas about her own freedom. Then it was Charlie, who had always had streak of rebellion to her. She had been a suffragette ever since she was thirteen and didn’t just believe in women’s right to vote, but also their right to have autonomy over their own bodies. A theory she tried out ruthlessly, especially with the help of Knox Overstreet, a local boy from town. When the board found out she had asked Ms. Keating for contraceptives, Joan Keating was fired on the spot.

Nell’s mother went to talk with Mrs. Nolan and left Nell to back up her last remaining things. Her dorm room was empty and lay in earie silence. She began sorting out her books, parting the ones that were Dora’s from her own. Her fingers ached as they clenched around the spine of Dora’s copy of Emily Dicken’s _Poems._ She didn’t want to part with it. She wanted to keep a part of Dora. As she stood there conflicted, her roommate entered the room.

“I saw your mother talking to Mrs. Nolan. What’s going on?” she said, something urgent to her voice that made Nell want to cry.

“She’s taking me out.” Nell said. “I’m eighteen now, she wants me to get married”

“No! She can’t!” Dora exclaimed.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do” Nell said, tears brimming in her eyes.

“Don’t apologize” Dora said. “It’s not your fault”

Nell nodded, incapable of answering and turned back to her packing. When she was done, she stood by the desk, tracing the words she had carved in after the first English lesson with Ms. Keating. _Carpe Diem._

Nell’s mother called, and Nell gave up a big sigh, her head falling forward, until her chin rested against her chest. She allowed herself a moment to just breathe, composing herself. When she turned back around, she wore a forced smile that made her cheeks hurt. She went to hug Dora who held her so tight she thought she was going to stop breathing. As the doors closed behind her, she whispered quietly to herself.

“I would marry you in an instant, if only I could”

_Damn your ~~wife~~ husband, I'd be your mistress just to have you around  
But I was late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life_

  
The time after Nell had left, Dora wrote page after page of senseless writing. She wrote letters and poetry and scraps of words that barely formed sentences. She had tried to stop her, to hold on to her hands, but Nell had torn herself away. Dora had buried herself in paper. Her teachers had been concerned over her sudden change in behavior and had sent her home to her parents who were no less baffled.

One day Geraldine had come to visit. They didn’t talk, but held on to each other’s hands as they were sat on the porch, looking at the setting sun. Eventually Dora had whispered, voice hoarse. _“Damn him. Damn him. I don’t care about convention. I’d be her mistress, anything”_

Geraldine was holding her hands now as she had then. They had been too late, but she and Stevie were here now. The door to Nell’s hospital room was shut closed. On the other side, the doctor and the nurses were battling for her life.

_~~And when I die alone, when I die alone, when I die I'll be on time~~_ ~~~~

_While the church discouraged any lust that burned within me  
Yes my flesh, it was my currency, but I held true_

The wedding was everything her mother had dreamed of.

The white dress was choking her and there were still thorns on the stems of the roses prickling her naked skin. The reception was drawn out as she greeted guests, listened to speeches and battling her ever rising nausea. As she looked around the room she was only met with strangers’ faces. The only one of her friends she had been allowed to invite was Stevie, and Nell was eternally grateful for the other girl’s presence even as she never got the chance to speak to her. Richard’s hands were clammy and he stepped on her toes during their first dance. She hated him for it, even as he apologized. His small talk was blasé and it was clear he knew as little about her as she knew about him. The only thing she did know for certain was that if his hand trailed any lower down her back she would kick him the balls, consequences be damned. _  
_

When they arrived at their new house, she claimed a headache and went straight to bed. She feigned sleep as Cameron entered to place a glass of water on her bedside table. He whispered he would go for a walk and left the house.

As soon as she could see him making his way down the street, she tore through her suitcases for a notebook. Instead she found a cornflower blue shawl, it was impossibly soft to the touch and she stroked the fabric against her cheek. It was Dora’s. _When had she…?_

The rest of the night, Nell dedicated to writing and scrapping letters, in-between making her husband tea and dinner. She burned it on purpose. Cameron didn’t say anything but he made grimaces and excused himself from the table. She could hear him retch in the bathroom and a self-satisfied smile spread over her lips as she sunk down in her armchair by the open fire.

She only wrote three words and went to post them the next day. She got a whole page of questions in return, but at the end of the letter Dora had written: _I love you too._ And Nell held on to that.

_So I drive a taxi, and the traffic distracts me  
_ _From the strangers in the backseat, that remind me of you_

A nurse had just entered, checking up on Nell. She glanced sideways and must have recognized Dora’s face from an article published just a couple of weeks ago.

“You’re that poet, aren’t you?” she said.

Dora just nodded.

“How’s it like?”

Dora gave the blonde nurse a considering look, before sighing. “Lonely”

“Oh, I can imagine” she said cheery, and went back to checking Nell.

_No you can’t_ Dora thought but didn’t say anything. Didn’t tell her of the lonely hours before dawn, when words either flowed like an untamed river or wouldn’t come at all. And she’d sit there with all her unfulfilled potential. Didn’t tell her about wandering around town in late evenings or early mornings, having to turn her head every time she met a woman with brown curls down her back.

. Eyes stinging and nose burning. Didn’t tell her of those sacred letters, those holy words, written by divine hands. How she started a new religion every time she read them, and prayed every time she reread them. Didn’t tell her about poetry about dark eyes sewn into her own sentences. Nor did she tell her about the unsatisfied taste of paper as she pressed her nude lips to the pages.

Instead Dora’s gaze rested on the whites of Nell’s cheeks, on the sharp line of her nose, the rose of her lips. The hollow of her throat. And the stillness of her chest.

The nurse had seen it too. “I’m getting the doctor!”

_And the only gift from my Lord were a birth and a divorce  
But I've read this script and the costume fits, so I'll play my part_

_  
_Nell knew she had to divorce Cameron the day Charlie phoned her to tell her she was pregnant. The thought of birthing his children was as terrible as his sweaty skin holding on to hers through the night.

Charlie had run away after having been expelled for improper conduct. Knox hadn’t needed any convincing as he ran after her. They had bumped through the states in a cheap truck and when they had tired of the dirt and grime, they had fled to Europe. La Belle Époque. They had been poets, and lovers, and drunkards, and madmen in Paris. Charlie had written incoherent letters about love and spite. 

About almost skinning Knox alive after that night were had taken fancy to a young, blonde dancer called Noel. _New._ Charlie had sobered up enough to remember that Keating had moved to London. She took a train to the coast, to board a boat that would take her over the channel. And Knox once more chased after her blindly.

Now they were coming back to America, Charlie told her. They were ready to settle down, she said. And ready to stick it in her parents face that she was still with a poor, nobody.

The depression had hit, there were no place for bohemians anywhere. Charlie didn’t care.

The first time Nell met Charlie and Knox’s daughter she was still a married woman, and she looked down at Nuwanda cradled in her arms with both wonder and fear. When Charlie asked her to be a godmother, Nell broke down in tears. Charlie held her through it.

Knox helped her connect with a lawyer who helped her file for divorce. Since she and Cameron had no children it went through. 

_I was Cleopatra, I was taller than the rafters_

Freedom made everything taste sweeter. Every strawberry, every wine was richer in taste. Every kiss. She had moved in with Dora and for the first few days they lay sleepy in bed, tracing each other’s skins with soft fingertips. Weaved strands of hair into loose plaits. Kissed necks, ears, chins, cheeks, foreheads, hands, bellies, breasts, thighs and lips. Nell was bursting with love and affection. Whispering _I adore you,_ over and over into tangled hair. Every fiber of her being holding on to Dora, feeling Dora holding back. They were happy and Nell was high with it.

As they settled into a routine of sorts Nell found an endless amount of time on her hands, which she divided between her friends. Meeting Geraldine at cafés, bringing Dora whenever she could drag her out from her writing cranny. Going to museums with Stevie and talking about lost languages. Babysitting Nuwanda, and spending long nights getting drunk with Charlie and Knox, Dora’s curled arm around her waist. She was happy and content.

Dora convinced her to audition for _Antony and Cleopatra._ Since it was Shakespeare she did. It was a small ensemble and to her great surprise, and immense happiness, she got the part of Cleopatra. They went out for dinner to celebrate and Dora gifted her a golden locket with pictures of the both of them.

"Instead of a ring" Dora had said and Nell wanted to kiss her stupid. 

One day as she was late to repetition, she rushed into traffic. She never saw the car.

_But that's all in the past love, gone with the wind  
Now a nurse in white shoes lead me back to my guestroom   
It's a bed and a bathroom   
And a place for the end_

When the director called and asked why Nell hadn’t turned up yet, Dora felt a cold shiver go through her. She asked if he was certain he hadn’t seen her.

“I’m telling you she hasn’t been here. She didn’t seemed the lazy type either” the director said.

Dora was shaking. She hung up and started calling her friends. None of them had seen her. With some help from Charlie she called around to the hospitals. Eventually a receptionist told her they had gotten a car accident victim matching the description. Dora didn’t have time for tears as she threw herself into a taxi going straight to the hospital. By the time she arrived the doctors had stabilized Nell and she was allowed to enter her room.

Nell looked far to pale. The doctor’s told her she had broken her hips and they weren’t sure she would walk again. Dora didn’t care as long as she lived.

“She will live right?”

“We think so”

Dora nodded, and sat down by Nell’s bedside, clasping one of her hands in both of her hands and brought it to her lips

_I won't be late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life  
And when I die alone, when I die alone, when I die I'll be on time_

The doctor had missed a fracture in her neck. As the nurse moved her head to check for head damage the air to her brain was cut off. She passed as if in a dream, without anyone noticing. When the doctor did CPR on her it was already too late.

The woman had a golden locket around her neck, and the doctor unclasped it before anyone would think to steal it. Times were trying. He handed it over to the waiting women along with the bad news. The blonde woman, who took it from his hands, held the locket close to her heart and burst into tears. 

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I was going to write something happy, turns out I didn't. Sorry 'bout that....


End file.
